More than a handful -
recollections
collecting at
the fingertips
of the secular spectator
detecting schemes
between sheets.

This is sin,
the plain and unadultered
scholarly pursuit thereof.

HS

What shall we do with a weight of absence
a hearing hung within us like a crystal
clear enrapture; calling forth questioning
if you are so passionate as you say
and as I dare but not believe it so
this cannot last as long underneath
with spurs these roots braiding the light
bowing your neck my own age-old owl eyes soul
silvery at dusk my white branches
blossoming; withering forth
ruins of harmonizing
created equally
how so ever apparent
i would as soon forget
i am in this myself
a concealment of here and here-in
as you lay waking on each fifteenth evening
for I have feet that slip out of shoes
ankles that spiral my neck blue
a fearful little rebel
like the multitude in your kingdom who seek the way ahead
where the fire is kept cold
behind my eyes tilted mirrors sing forth
where birds can rise from the roof of my mouth
it is past repair
as it has been kept invisible it does not touch the
bumbling it requires
a bungling amateurish blundering
crispness floundering
asking for a pulse
a practice you can run your tongue over
this loosened lily splintering its thistle spine
astonishing how pleasure keeps us singing like we're high
even as I overlay illusory
awake in every motive
murmuring there just there it goes
gone sprawling
gold glistening all its weight lit up to become enough
as only one.

HS

i captured his appetite
tasted it
and regardless of the
demands
i wont give it back
until we are full

HS

In the days past
the ships came effortlessly
docking with the tide
you became a sunset tendency
a song concealed with time

i have kept this in hand; myself
wistfully singing instead

and yet
the last time I saw the sky
my eyes broke like shooting stars
hitting the face of your palms
and the last time I saw you
my soul knew that you would always
be enough
as my only
my only
one

that 

could

be

true

HS